Kill the Messenger
by SillverMedal
Summary: Cowrite with Suspension! Zack witnesses a murder and finds himself in the midst of a dangerous mystery. Friends become suspects, rivals become allies, and soon the only evidence left to be trusted is the memory he's terrified of remembering.
1. 01

**A/N**: Take two. Remember, anything could be a clue... )

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

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**.KILL THE MESSENGER.**

1

* * *

At the intersection of 57th and 24th Street was a man in waiting.

The glow of the streetlamps faded dully into the chilly fall night, and though stars twinkled in the black sky, they remained unimportant and ignorant.

The man pushed back his dark sleeves, revealing a glow-in-the-dark watch with the words _Cellini Cestello_ engraved on its face in fancy print. The watch was solid gold and it glittered translucently in the dim lighting, though it did not twinkle or shimmer enough to catch the eye of a passer-by.

It was midnight.

He would have to wait another minute.

* * *

"Hey—you going already? The night is _young_, man!" 

Zack rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he grabbed his coat, tossing it over a shoulder. "It's called a curfew, Adam!" he shouted back as he weaved his way through the crowd of partiers.

"But it's Halloween!"

Zack shrugged, still hurrying out of the house. "See you Monday!"

As soon as he left the building the blaring music became muted in the chilly October air. He could still feel the bass but it was more tolerable now, and he didn't have to smell beer with every note.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and began the long trudge home. The party had been wilder than expected, but he'd only had a little to drink and tomorrow was a Saturday so it wasn't a big deal. He'd just tell Cody and his mom that he was tired, or something, and sleep undisturbed for the greater part of the weeken-

-_BANG_!

A gunshot.

A _gunshot_?

Zack instantly halted his steps. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that the shot had been close—and that a gunshot meant one definite thing.

Somebody had pulled the trigger.

Frowning in confusion, he veered off to the right so as to investigate the source of the noise. Most likely it had been some sort of Halloween prank…Some people weren't content with only one devil's night, after all.

And then he heard the voices.

Quiet, hushed, but higher-pitched as he walked closer towards them. Finally he saw shapes in the glare of a streetlamp, and the voices raised their intensity.

"…Nobody told me it was loaded!"

"You _idiot_! What did you do? Christ—what did you _do_?"

"I didn't do nothing—I didn't mean to—_you_ were here, too! He said it was a joke! He said it was a _joke_!"

Panic. The voices were drenched in it.

Zack hid himself from view but peeked around a wall to get a better visual. He saw what looked like three figures standing over something on the ground…Occasionally one of the shapes would look down and shudder, but Zack couldn't quite see what the fuss was about.

"God—is he _dead_?" Now the panic had turned to shock. Cold-blooded shock.

"No. No-but-but we can't-,"

"-We gotta call 911, man; we can't just _leave_ him here!"

"He's dead anyway!"

"But he's not _yet_!"

And then Zack heard it. A choked moan…A weak cry…_help_! someone pleaded. The hairs on his neck stood on edge and his heart quickened its beating.

And then he connected two and two.

Oh, _God-_

His eyes bugged as he raised a hand to cover his mouth. He tried to fight down a gag but it tumbled out of his vocal chords anyway and he hunkered down, still gaping, so as not to give away his existence.

But it was too late.

One of the three figures had heard his outburst, and now three sets of footsteps were hurrying towards him. Zack squeezed his eyes shut in horror—this was it. He was going to die at sixteen.

He wished he could see Cody again. And his mom. And maybe his dad and Adam and that girl he'd dumped a week back.

He told himself fiercely not to cry and found some inner strength to stand and face his adversaries, heart beating a rough tattoo against his ribcage.

And was met with three of his classmates.

He recognized all three of them; could have sat down and had a conversation with any of them any day. To think that they had just _killed_ someone was-it was-

-It was _unthinkable_.

"What-what did you see?" one of them demanded, voice higher-pitched than usual as he jabbed his finger (which was trembling horribly) towards Zack. The other two stared as if horrified by his presence, and Zack noticed with a pang of fear that one of them was holding a handgun.

Part of him wished he could see their faces, but it was too dark and he couldn't make out anything but the fact that they were all his height, if not slightly taller.

"Nothing-," he started, voice thick. "I'm just walking home-,"

"What if he's lying?" one of the boys exclaimed tearfully. "We're going to get _electrocuted_! They're gonna lock us up and we're never gonna get a job, or get married, or-or graduate high school!"

"Shut up!" another boy snarled. "What did you _really_ see?"

"Nothing!" Zack repeated. "Honest to God, I'm just walking home! And I heard-I heard a shot so I-I came over to see what it was-" he broke off, fingers tightly crossed behind his back.

"_Nothing happened_," one of the boys insisted. He wasn't quite as anxious as the second, but his voice still shook. "Don't even think about telling anybody-,"

"-Or we'll kill you, too," said another, taking a step closer. Zack suddenly felt something cool against his temple. His heart nearly ceased its beating as he realized that a gun was now pointed at his head. "You got that?"

Zack suddenly couldn't breathe, and he gagged as he starred down the barrister. "I-," he started, throat dry and speaking nearly impossible. His knees felt like jelly and he had to reach out and grab the brick wall to keep from collapsing.

"We'll kill you and your family and _everybody_ you _care about_ if you even _think_ about telling!" The cool gun against Zack's head shook slightly.

"Okay!" Zack managed, gasping for breath. "I swear I won't tell. I-I-," he looked around at the three of them, shock still thumping through his veins. "I didn't see anything," he finished, eyes wide.

A few moments of tense silence passed, and the gun didn't move from its pointed position until the moments commenced.

"We're going." said one of them.

And then they were gone.

Zack stood there, chest heaving and mind spinning for another thirty seconds. And then he realized he was alone with a corpse and he knew he had to do something about it. Trepidation clouding his thoughts, Zack slowly slinked forward.

Wondering who he would see.

When the body came into view Zack could see that it wasn't quite a "body" yet, as a hand still twitched and soft moans escaped the victim's mouth. Zack knelt down beside the boy, brows furrowing and breath catching in his throat as he recognized who the teen was.

His name was Austin, Austin Craver, and they'd been lab partners in biology since the beginning of the school year. Austin and him hadn't really been close, but they'd gotten along well. Austin was well-liked; not popular, but still appreciated.

And now he was dying.

Zack reached out a hesitant hand, finally letting it fall to his side when he realized that he had no idea what to do.

Austin's eyes cracked open, flooded with pain, and he choked as blood dribbled down his chin. A gaping wound in his torso was letting out too much blood, and his skin was ghostly white in the faint streetlamp.

"Hurts-," Austin gasped, clenching his eyes shut and coiling his fingers slightly. Zack stared at him dumbly before snapping to attention and reaching decisively into his pocket for his cell phone. _Why hadn't he thought of that before!_

"Hold on," he told Austin. "I'm gonna call an ambulance, man, okay?"

"Three-four-," the dying boy whispered, before his words fell silent and his hand stopped moving. His eyes rolling back slightly, Austin went completely limp.

He was dead.

Zack's breath started coming in little gasps, then, and he stumbled to his feet. Backtracking clumsily, he found himself running, running, running away from the body. Away from the crime.Away from the horror he had just witnessed.

* * *

The man in waiting rolled his sleeve back again to look at his Rolex. 

It was five after midnight.

He straightened his jacket and walked away.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

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_Please review! And if you think you've spotted a clue (and I can say that there were at least four in this chapter), good work. Perhaps you'll be the first to solve the mystery :)._


	2. 12

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews! Good guesses, everyone. Only time will tell ;).

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

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**.KILL THE MESSENGER.**

2

* * *

Zack shivered against the cool October air as it blew against his body, but he was too numb to notice. He walked slowly along, feeling dazed and lightheaded, trying to make himself understand what he had just witnessed. Maybe it was all a dream? Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing?

But the scene quickly unfolded in his mind once more as he remembered the blood.

All that blood.

Zack shuddered at the thought and picked up his pace. Before he knew it he was running as fast as he could, away from the blood, the smell, the body...

The _dead_ body.

He stumbled to the corner of 21st Street where the Tipton stood just a block away and stopped to catch his breath. He felt his head swimming and his insides churning. With one swift movement, Zack threw himself against the garbage bin on the end of the sidewalk and violently emptied the contents of his stomach. His whole body shaking, he lifted his head out of the rancid bin and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed as two young adults passed by, snickering.

"Someone had too much to drink tonight," he heard one of the young men utter to his friend.

Zack wanted to run over to them and scream that someone he knew was dead, and he saw the killers. But his feet were rooted to the ground next to the garbage bin as the words of a murderer flew through his head.

"_We'll kill you and your family and _everybody_ you _care about _if you even _think _about telling!"_

Another wave of nausea rushed through Zack's body and he put his hand against a lightpost to steady himself. It's one thing to witness a murder, but to witness the murder of a friend and to have your own life threatened because of it is on a completely different level. And they were around his age, too, that was apparent in their panic stricken speech. But the fact that they were Zack's age wasn't the most disturbing part of this whole nightmare.

The intensity in the apparent leader's voice as he threatened Zack and the calm demeanor he had as he held the gun to Zack's temple was the most frightening part of the ordeal. The words came floating back into his mind once more.

"_We'll kill you and your family and _everybody_ you _care about _if you even _think _about telling!"_

The faces of his mother and father popped into his head, followed by his brother's. He imagined them sitting on the couch, laughing and watching TV, as the three teenaged killers came bursting through the door to their suite, laughing maniacally as they shot his entire family. The last image he saw was the look of terror in his brother's eyes.

Zack let out a stifled cry and shook his head. He had to do something.

He made his way over to the payphone across from the hotel and stared at it. With trembling hands, he picked up the phone and dialed.

_"911, what's your emergency?"_

Zack's ears were pounding as he opened his mouth to tell the operator what had happened. But nothing came out.

_"Hello? What's your emergency?"_

Zack squeaked, "S-s-someone's been..." He took a breath. "Someone's been killed."

_"Alright. Aare you okay, sir? Are you in a safe place?"_

Zack began to shake. "The alley next to the music shop on 5th," he practically whispered.

_"Okay. Sir, I need you to give me your name."_

Fingers frozen on the phone, Zack shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to protest; to explain that his family's lives depended on him remaining anonymous.

_"Sir? Are you still there? I need your name."_

Zack slammed the phone down and put his hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. He did the right thing. At least, he hoped he had done the right thing.

"Calm down, man," he said to himself as he walked across the street and into the hotel. Once outside of his suite, he hesitated before opening the door. His mom would be in the ballroom, but he was sure Cody would be waiting on the other side of the door with a book in hand. If he could just slip by him...

He opened the door and sure enough, there was Cody with a copy of _Of Mice and Men_ in his hands. He glanced up and smiled. "Hi," he said lightly. Zack tried to act as normal as possible.

"What's up?" he said, running a hand through his hair and hanging up his jacket.

Cody furrowed his brow. "You ok, Zack? Why are your hands shaking so bad?" he asked, concerned.

Zack squeezed his eyes tightly before he turned around to face him. Leave it to Cody to notice _everything_. "It's pretty cold outside," he lied, rushing off into his bedroom. He quickly shut the door and leaned against it. Holding his hands out in front of him, Zack noticed just how unstable they were.

He tried taking deep breaths, but he couldn't; they came out short and ragged. He slid down against the door and held his hands over his face.

Didn't this kind of thing only happen in the movies?

* * *

In an alleyway off of the hotel was a man. Calmly he watched guests come and go, calculating mentally how long it took each one to depart from the glowing building. There was a large clock across the street, flashing melodrammatically against a looming bank (long since closed), but he did not need this clock.

As was habit with him, the man slowly peeled back the sleeve of his shirt to study his watch.

It was 12:35 a.m.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_Please review_! _(Any thoughts_?)


	3. 35

**A/N**: Some of you were oh-so-close, others, well, weren't. But that's all part of it! Enjoy chapter three...

**Disclaimer**: We own nothing.

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**.KILL THE MESSENGER.**

3

* * *

The crowds were quieter than usual, and students whispered pointedly to each other as they shuffled around the halls. The gossip mill was spinning, spinning, spinning and it was so loud, so soft, it was nearly deafening.

Cody walked languidly beside Zack as they made their way to their lockers. Once they reached then, Zack quickly opened his, grabbing what he needed and then sticking his entire head inside as if to hide from the world.

In truth, he didn't want to look at Cody whose sad face was nearly heartbreaking under the circumstances. Cody hadn't cried, or anything, but he kept asking that damned question, _why_? Why, why, why, why, why, WHY?

"Hey, man."

A low voice behind him, Zack whipped around, nearly banging his head against his metal locker. A fellow junior was standing next to Cody, face solemn. Zack recognized him as one of his brother's friends.

"Hey," sighed Cody. They stood awkwardly for a few moments, and again Zack was a witness. "Weird."

Cody's friend nodded. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Do we have physics club tomorrow?" Cody asked, an odd note to his voice.

His friend shrugged darkly. "Probably," he said lowly. "But, you know…"

Zack cringed, hands beginning to shake. "I'm gonna go-," he said quickly to his brother before slamming his locker and taking off in the direction of the boy's bathroom. Relieved to find it empty, he collapsed in one of the stalls, throwing up his breakfast as his chest heaved.

_Oh, God_.

The way the gun had clicked as it froze beside his temple seemed as redundant as the squeal of sneakers on the linoleum floors. The dark, crimson blood that had flowed from Austin's open wound seemed as apparent as the whispers sent like emails through the hallways. The murder that flickered in the eyes of the killers seemed as human as the breaths he now fought to take.

His mind was spinning, his heart was racing, his hands were shaking terribly as he clutched the porcelain bowl for dear, sweet, precious life…

And then the door to the bathroom opened and voices killed his quiet silence. Zack went very still, wiping a quivering hand over his mouth.

"…My dad said the cops are looking at the security cameras to see, like, if they got anyone on tape. They've asked all the hotels and restaurants and stuff to send in their tapes."

"Do they know who they're, like, looking for, or…?"

"Like hell I know. What kind of psycho would wanna shoot _Austin Craver_? The guy never did anything wrong. I heard he had a four-o'."

"Betcha ten bucks it was Mr. Curtis."

Mr. Curtis was the gym teacher. Zack's insides squirmed uncomfortably. Not wanting to listen anymore to the conversation he flushed the toilet, standing shakily to his feet and reaching into his pocket for a stick of gum.

"Nah. It was probably just _Samarra_."

"Man. You watch _way_ too many of those horror movies. It's starting to show."

Zack slowly left the stall, briefly looking at the two guys he didn't know as they talked before hurrying over to the sink. They looked at him briefly (freshmen; typical) before carrying on with their conversation.

"Did you know the kid? The one who was killed?"

"He's in my debate class. Er—he _was_ in my debate class."

Nervous laughter. Zack hastily pumped out the soap across from the sink, trying desperately hard not to look at his own reflection.

"I heard he was cool. His girlfriend's all freaking out, and stuff. Dude, how much would that suck, man? Your boyfriend, or whatever, turns up randomly dead. That's so, like, cheap."

"Dude! Is she hot?"

Zack spun around, suddenly angry. "Why do you gotta be such an ass-hole, man?" he demanded, causing one of the freshman boys to jump in surprise. "He was murdered, and all you care about is how hot his _girlfriend_ is?"

Zack swore viciously and left the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Zack had math first hour.

He sat down next to a boy his age, as he set down his book and got out his calculator. He'd completely forgotten to do the homework.

"Section four was due today?"

Zack nodded. "Yep."

The kid sitting next to him blew out his breath. "Crap," he said darkly. He tapped his pencil on the desk in front of him in an arithmetical beat, though he made it seem oddly idyll. "Hey—was that Austin-kid at that party last night?"

Zack bit his lip. "No clue," he said honestly. The boy's tapping was getting obnoxious and Zack lacked the tolerance to be patient. "Cut that _out_, Adam." he snapped, ignoring the weird look he received in return.

Adam and Zack had been best friends since the ninth grade. As juniors they were pretty close and generally mild-mannered, though Zack wasn't in the mood to deal with his friend's ADHD-like habits. Adam was funny and loyal and just as popular as Zack, though he had issues when it came to taking things seriously.

Like, say, murder, for example.

"How awkward would it be to just, like, be trick-or-treating, or whatever, and then somebody 'accidentally' shoots you? Talk about a sick joke!"

Zack's stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"I mean, it's not like he was into drugs, or whatever," Adam continued, oblivious to his friend's sensitivity, having none of his own. "Maybe he looked like some junkie and the dealer got, I dunno, mad or something."

Zack opted to use sarcasm to hide his unease. "Are you drawing from personal experience?" he mocked their English teacher. Adam snickered.

"Man," he whistled. "I hope they don't broadcast who was at the party. My parents still think I was at your place."

Zack felt his stomach drop. "And my mom thinks I was at yours…" he trailed off, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Adam looked as though he was about to say more when the teacher called the class's attention. Zack took a deep breath and sunk further down in his seat.

"Prepare to be amazed!" declared the math teacher. Eccentric and passionate, Mr. Dillon was popular with the student body. Usually Zack enjoyed his animated lectures on trigonometry and pre. Calculus, but today he found himself jumpy.

_Security cameras_…

Ten numbers had been drawn on the white board:

**0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34**

"Someone tell me what's so _unique_ about these numbers," said Mr. Dillon, stepping back and observing the class with nothing short of barely-contained glee. Zack couldn't focus and the board suddenly seemed a mile away…

Adam's hand went up, albeit hesitantly.

"Mr. Scott!" cried Mr. Dillon. Adam cocked his head a little. His cocky smile seemed to fade a little suddenly, and he shook his head, mumbling a _never mind_ under his breath. Mr. Dillon waved him off, and when no one else raised a hand he spread his arms wide and ecstatically.

"Each number," he began, uncapping a red marker and demonstrating his words erratically on the board. "Is the sum of the two preceding numbers-," he paused theatrically. "That is to say, for each number to exist in the pattern, it must be the equivalent of the two numbers _before_ it added together! It's like, for you to tie your shoelaces you must first have put on your socks and chosen the correct shoe for each foot. No sock, no shoe; no shoe, no laces. If X plus Y does not equal W, than the numbers do not fit the pattern, and our entire point is _dissolved_!"

Comprehension dawned like sunrise around the room.

"Ah-ha!" Mr. Dillon nodded at them all excitedly. "Class, meet the Fibonacci numbers!" He barely paused before continuing. "Of course, these are only the first ten. The list goes on and on and on…Simple, yet incredibly complex!"

_Simple_…_Yet incredibly complex…_

Simple.

Yet incredibly complex.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_It would take many fingers to display the number of clues in this chapter..._


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